


The Golden Heart of Erebor

by FiliKiliThorinForever, xLilarosa



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fíli Angst, M/M, One's, Pining, Serious Injuries, Soulmates, Unrequited Love, We've really done a number of Fili, grab the chocolate, hurt!Fili - Freeform, supposedly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiliKiliThorinForever/pseuds/FiliKiliThorinForever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLilarosa/pseuds/xLilarosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness, fear and heartbreak; emotions that are sadly all too common in Fíli’s life. He’s used to being the one on the outside, always looking in from the position Thorin placed him in at an age far too young. When he should have been playing, he was studying; when he should have been running through forests and treading his own small version back through the house, he was learning politics. When he should have been struggling with what it meant to know who your One was but not have your love returned, he was sitting silently in meetings as he watched and learned.</p><p>But now they’ve reclaimed Erebor, and an occasion that is supposed to be celebratory is marred by a looming darkness, of the mind and across the land. And watching it all is Fíli; unsure of where he belongs, and after the battle, unsure of why he survived.</p><p>As the golden prince fights his fears and for his life, Thorin and Kíli, while trying to rebuild their homeland and deal with the political turmoil that follows, must find a way to save him before it’s too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Burning City

**A/N: Hello everyone! So this is something that Lilarosa and I have been planning since May/June and have finally found time to start working on it recently. I'm glad to say in less than a month we've managed to write 3.5 chapters for this, so hopefully we'll have it written fairly quickly!**  
  
**The whole idea for this was based on this[GIF](http://filikilithorinforever.tumblr.com/post/120849682080/lilarosa712-squeepii-lilarosa712), and it kinda spiraled from there... Oops O.o Please note ratings and tags may change as we go along :D**  
  
**We hope you all enjoy this crazy journey we have planned for you! Get your Fili survival kits out cause you are going to need them! :D**

**As much as it saddens us we do not own the writings or the characters of The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings, they are the wonderful and exclusive workings of J.R.R Tolkien**

 

* * *

 

Everywhere he looked it was chaos.

Houses were burning down around him, simple structures that had meant safety and home to its occupants not an hour before had transformed into fiery coffins should they remain trapped. The lake itself glowed bright, as though it too were burning in the dragon’s wake.

Screams tore through the air as the town fell down around them, and Fíli couldn’t help but mourn just what they had done, couldn’t help the heavy weight that settled in his chest at the thought that they were the reason for every soul that perished here that night.

“Look out!”

Bofur’s cries dragged him back to the present, just in time to see a large boat filled to the brim with gold and trinkets crash into them.

“MY GOLD! MY PRECIOUS GOLD!”

He had no chance to try and help steer the boat clear of the floating treasury, no chance to try and protect those in his charge as the force of the two boats colliding jarred him of his already failing grip on his oar and sent him toppling into the freezing waters.

At any other time he knew his kin would have heard him and the subsequent splash made by his unexpected dip in the lake, but the moment he fell Smaug had roared, and every other sound was drowned out by the beast and the terror he wrought. Dazed by circumstance, Fíli was engulfed by the frigid waters and dragged downwards both by current and his sopping clothes and boots.

It was quiet down deep. Everything around him felt oddly silent for a town that burned above. But sound didn’t carry in the water, didn’t carry down to the watery grave so many would meet far too early.

The shock of being under only lasted a moment, and in the next, he was moving. Striking towards what he hoped was the surface, his small frame wracked with shivers he finally broke through with a wet cough. But he’d barely inhaled a full breath when a wave knocked him under again. Fíli lost time as he was tossed about, as he desperately struggled to stay upright and remain afloat. The sheer shock of the freezing water and near-drowning made him slow to recover, and by the time he found his sense of direction, his companions were nearly out of sight.    

“No…” The choked moan fell from his lips, and Fíli knew there was no way he'd be able to catch his brother's attention, not now that they'd paddled so far away to flee from the dragon.

“Kee…” He coughed water from his lungs, and there was a frantic moment where he swam as fast as he could towards the boat, a boat that was still moving away from him, too quickly to gain ground.

Fíli was not a swimmer. Dwarven bodies were made hard and heavy like the rock legend said they were crafted from, and staying afloat became harder with every passing moment. Heart hammering wildly, he was dunked again by a wave, and as he came up choking, the realization hit him hard.

He was alone.

Fíli was in trouble, and if he were to survive he needed to move; so that is what he did. Blond hair nearly curtained his eyes, and with a brush of his hand he pushed the wet tangles aside as he desperately searched around for something to hold onto, anything that would help keep him afloat long enough to make it to one of the docks.

And there, in the distance, he found it; a large piece of wood drifting amongst a field of debris; splintered doors and boats floating away from their original structures, knocking into each other with each shift of the water. He tried to ignore what else lay in the water; bodies, both large and small, a cruel taunt to remind him how badly they had failed, how much blood was now on their hands. But he knew there would be time to mourn later; he could not linger in his sorrow now, for it would take precious minutes to reach what might be his only chance at surviving, and if he wished to see another day he needed to move. Immediately.

“Come on, come on,” In short, desperate paws, Fíli swam. His limbs jerked shakily with each stroke, willing his body to keep going, to not seize up on him when he was so cl-

Stiff fingers scrabbled on the charred edges of the wood but he quickly found purchase, heaving himself upwards to lay partially across the plank.

He only allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. Besides his body wracked by shivers and heaving pants, he lay utterly still on the wood, entrusting it entirely to keep him buoyant. And in that stillness, his mind at last had the wherewithal to catch up to what had happened; how he’d been unintentionally forgotten, disposed of in the freezing Long Lake.

“No,” he moaned, coughing again. Another heaving breath and then he angled himself upwards, yelling as loudly as he could, “Kíli!”

His cry echoed off the water and was sucked into the roaring of the flames and screeches of the dragon until it faded into the night.  Knowing it was futile to continue yelling lest he draw unwanted attention to himself, he fell back with a cry of defeat, turning his head to where he had last seen his brother disappear into the smoke and ash, praying he might yet catch a glimpse, even if it were of a faint outline. But the powerful hull carrying his kin along the lake’s surface had simply vanished.

_He was truly alone._

Barely controlling the panic swelling within him, he stared stupidly in every direction, suddenly not knowing what to do. As his gaze came to rest on the shore, his pupils constricted from the bright glow of fire as the wooden settlement burned.

“Mahal,” he choked. Truly, there were no words to describe the devastation that lay before him.

Yelping in shock he went under once again, a rogue wave throwing his safe haven upside down and dunking him completely. He was only under for a split second, but that was all it took; he came up spluttering, ice-cold fingers clutching the splintered wood in pure terror of drowning.

“He..lp!” Fíli moaned, “ _Kee_.”

Suddenly gripped by a fear of mortality that he’d not yet faced in his short life, Fíli knew help was not coming. And with a dawning recognition that he may never see his friends and brother again he began a slow kick towards a relatively undamaged dock, praying to any who would listen he might find a boat to get him to shore. As it was, the slab of wood beneath him was the only thing keeping him from drowning, but he was numb to the unbidden thoughts of how very close to death he really was. If the dragon or the cold didn’t kill him, if he were to live and the elf had led his brother, his One to his doom… Fíli knew he would not survive. Not that pain.

Only a few minutes later of jilted paddling did Fíli realise that he’d lost one of his boots; his toes already cramping from contact within the freezing water. The pain of it brought his wetly clumped eyelashes together, and he squeezed them shut in a sort of fatigue he hadn’t felt in many years.

Bobbing helplessly in the choppy waves, inching his way closer whilst continually being dunked underneath, it was all he could do to keep kicking.

He swam on.

 

* * *

 

Kíli clutched at the side of the boat, trying to keep his injured leg as steady as he could as the swells of water swayed their boat back and forth. The feeling of illness momentarily forgotten, he could only gape at the sight of Smaug as the dragon burned the town straight into the water. Screams echoed shrilly across the lake, filling the valley and the mountains surrounding it, and they were soon lost in between the cries of the dragon as he spewed billows of flames into the waterways. Townspeople too late in fleeing Esgaroth floated still in the black water, hair singed, clothes charred; a strange keening sound left Kíli then, and he forced himself to look away.

Beside him, Bofur paddled quickly. It took everything within his being to ignore Tilda’s weeps as she cried for her brother and her father. Her pleads to go back were lost in her sister’s shoulder, Sigrid’s arms like iron bars wrapped firmly around her. They could not go back; any second lost could cost them their lives, and they all knew this.

“Bain!” Tilda sobbed.

Smaug roared again, and there was a heavy burst of wind as the dragon flew near. Heart thudding rapidly in his chest, Bofur dug deeper into the water, pushing the oar with all his might.

“Faster, Fíli!” He cried over his shoulder.

Grunting, he pushed and pushed, the effort to bring their boat to relative safety drawing a sheen of sweat over his face. Panicked that they were making little headway, the dwarf turned fully to the aft of their boat, ready to call out again to the blond prince, when -

“ _Fíli?_ ” The word left his throat with barely a sound as he was suddenly staring numbly at the empty place where Fíli used to be.

Bewilderment filled him, blanketing the seed of panic in his belly, as his mind refused to believe what he’d so abruptly discovered. Wide eyes flew throughout the boat, tearing across each face in a frenzied effort to find his missing friend.

And yet, he simply was not there.

“No no no,” he whispered, and without hesitation he tossed his oar by his feet to lean over the wooden hull. Because it could not be. He’d have _heard_ if something had happened to Fíli, would he not? But as the seconds passed, as his frantic whispers were drowned by the rolling swells and crackles of fire, the thought struck him so deeply that perhaps they’d missed it.

The lake was black under him, sparkling by a dimming glow of the distant fire.

And their prince was nowhere to be seen.

“Fíli! Fíli!” The cries suddenly tore from him, straight from his belly, the sound heated - _horrified_. “FÍLI!”

It was this sound that caught Kíli’s attention. Not the words, but the _sound_ ; Kíli had never heard something so terrified leave Bofur’s lips. Turning from where he’d been entranced by the burning city, it suddenly hit him what Bofur yelling about - _who_ Bofur was yelling about, and then he was clawing his way up to stand.

“Bofur?!”

“He was right here a moment ago!” Bofur cried in abject horror, hat askew, and he only turned towards them for a second to apprise them. “He was right _there!_ ”

Something coiled deep within Kíli then. Knees buckling, he stumbled in place, and it had nothing to do with the gentle rocking of the boat or his injured leg. There was one second in time where his entire being refused to comprehend Bofur’s words or the empty spot behind him; where all the air was pulled noisily from his lungs and he was frozen in place.

And in the next second, the void of silence was filled with a loud, white noise. Even the roaring fire and Smaug’s cries were drowned by it - replaced instead by a howl of fear and pure panic and one single word repeated within him:

Nonono no No No NO!

Fíli was gone.

“No,” the sound that left him was raw, followed quickly by a moan of distress, and then he was _yelling_ , “ _NO_ .. Go back! We must go back! Fíli! _FÍLI!_ ”

Bofur snatched the oar by his feet and plunged it into the icy waters, paddling backwards until Tauriel’s sharp eyes found him. Her voice cut through the mayhem of Lake Town, and her words held no room for dispute. “No! Leave him, we cannot go back.”

The oar in the water stilled as the dwarf grasped her words and understood the consequences behind them. To leave his prince behind was unthinkable, but as Smaug roared again, he knew to go back would be leading them to certain death. Just as they’d left Bain, they would have to leave Fíli as well.

Heaving a shaking breath, Bofur righted his hat, and then began to paddle forward.

“What? No, Bofur.. stop,” Kíli’s eyes shined bright, still caught in a battle between searching the lake for his brother and pleading for the others to listen. “Bofur! We cannot leave him!”

“He will have to look after himself,” Tauriel said evenly, almost coldly as she leveled her gaze to the front of their boat.

“She’s right, laddie,” Bofur’s voice shook with frank despair. “We’ll not survive if we go back.”

Sliding down the wooden hull, Kíli hit the bottom in a jarring heap. “Please, Bofur...” But his continued pleads were met by deaf ears.

Lost, his wet eyes suddenly met Tilda’s. Cheeks dusted black from smoke, her terrified look must have matched his, and for a second there was a momentary understanding between them; older brothers lost to a lake of fire and blazing ruin. Kíli whimpered, the rawness of their stare too difficult to hold, and so he turned his head back to the fiery settlement and prayed for his brother.

 

* * *

 

In the distance on Raven Hill, the company gathered as one, the looks on their faces one of unadulterated shock as they took in the sight of the city that burned. Sickened by the orange glow and the implications for those left behind, Bilbo turned his helpless gaze to Thorin.

But Thorin was not staring down to where the doomed town lay, no expression on his face that showed the sinking despair the others felt for his beloved nephews safety, nor sadness for the ones who had found their death that night. No, his gaze instead was bright, hungry; straight at the doorway into Erebor where the molten gold was glinting off the moonlight and beckoning him.

Bilbo swallowed against the lump in his throat, horrified at the sight of the once great leader that he had chosen to follow reduced to a shell he no longer recognised. He took a step forward, hoping to get the dwarf’s attention, drag him away from the sight of the gold and into the here and now, hoping to get him to show even a sliver of concern for the four dwarves they’d abandoned in the flaming city in the hopes of returning him even momentarily to his senses.

But the shrieks of the dragon, so different to the ones of before captured his attention and so he turned back, watching intently to the events that unfolded in the burning city below.


	2. On the Shores of the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** Welcome back everyone! Hope you all enjoyed chapter one, because we start getting into things this chapter! Remember, everything will more or less be going downhill for Fili from here, the poor baby will need copious amounts of blankets and love in the coming chapters that’s for sure O.o
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and kudosed so far. You really are the driving force behind it all, and we hope you continue to enjoy it as we dive deeper and deeper into the heavy angsty-whumpy chapters. I'm thinking we might need to get our heads checked for how much we're enjoying writing this stuff... 
> 
> Living on the opposite sides of the earth has been a really fun challenge for us.. but totally worth it!

****Two nights ago the edge of the lake had remained untouched, the tussock and lichen that surrounded its pristine shores the only sign of life.

But no longer.

Bodies and debris littered the shoreline, hinting at the horrors that had befallen the town it held only hours before. Screams pierced the air, each one echoing for miles until it faded away with the rising sun.

Those of sound mind gathered in groups for warmth whilst others hurried to and fro, some dragging the wounded from the water as others foraged for supplies to keep them warm, to give them a shred of hope for surviving a day in the wasteland their homes had become. And amongst the chaos a small group huddled together, calls for their missing family members like the bleats of lambs looking for their mothers.

“Da! DA!”

“ _Fíli!_ Fee, where are you?!”

Kíli looked around him, eyes wide as a terrible feeling sunk in. The townspeople were pulling fewer survivors out of the lake than they had been when they started, the majority having been saved while the rest were left to float in the rolling breakers. But not once had he seen the glint of golden hair; his brother simply nowhere to be seen.

“Bofur,” Kíli pleaded as he caught the edge of his friend’s tunic in his hand. He pulled him closer, a panicked desperation consuming his entire being. “We must go back. What if he’s still in the water?”

Bofur was silent as he stood on the rocky shoreline, and for a second his eyes drifted back to the smoking remains of Esgaroth. The distance between it and them was far too great for a dwarf to swim; if Fíli hadn’t made it to shore by now, the likelihood of his survival seemed impossible in the frozen waters. “Kíli..” he trailed off, voice cracking with a grief that ran bone deep; how could he find the strength to tell Kíli of his brother’s likely fate?

“Help me with this boat. We still have time to go back and search,” Kíli ignored him and turned to wade into the frigid waters, but the other dwarf caught him by the wrist.

“Kíli, wait - ”

“Let go, Bofur! We can’t waste another minute, he’s still out there. _Please_ , help me with this boat.”

“Lad,” Bofur’s grip was white-knuckled, and he pulled Kíli back from the lake’s edge. “Listen to me. Even if Fíli is still out there, we may not find his…”

Body.

He closed his eyes against the cruelty of that word and shook his head at the former approach. He tried again. “The waters are cold, and the distance is too great. It’s been hours, Kíli. If your brother isn’t already here...”

“What?” Kíli whispered as his features dropped into one of shock. His skin had turned pale from the implications of Bofur’s words alone. “What are you saying?”

The older dwarf swallowed dryly, the words just about to leave his lips when -

“Da! _Da!_ ” Tilda was shouting again, yet this time her sobs were edged with veritable relief. Kíli and Bofur turned just in time to see the young girl scramble from her sister’s hold, and straight into the arms of Bard.

“Oh Tilda!” Her father gathered her up easily, lips finding the top of her ashy hair as he kissed her over and over. “Thank heavens! Are you alright?”

She sobbed wetly into his shoulder, clutching his tunic with every bit of strength she had. “ _Da_.”

“Bain!” There was a whimpered moan from Sigrid, and then she, too, was running, enveloping Bain, who had stepped out of the shadow of his father and straight into his sister’s hold.

“How could you do that?!” Sigrid sobbed, drawing away to shake him by the shoulders roughly. “How could you do that to me? To Tilda? You could have died!”

Rather than answering, the young boy glanced behind his father with a look of concern. Sigrid followed her brother’s line of sight and her eyes widened in surprise and it was this, and the wet, heaving cough Kíli that stole his attention.

_He knew that sound._

He rushed forward, hope building in his chest like a blossom opening for the first time in spring; tentative and slow. Darting around the small family that stood in his way, Kíli stumbled to a stop at the sight before him, a lump in his throat forming as his eyes roved over the tousled blond hair laying in curtains around a pale face, the head bowed low over his knees as his brother sat slumped on the ground, wheezing for breath.

“Fee…”

Kíli raced forwards, fingers hovering over his brother uncertainly before abandoning his hesitation and gathered the smaller frame into his arms.

“Fee,” the word fell from his lips again, and he was nearly breathless at the feeling of his brother against him. His dear brother who was _alive_. Within his arms, Fíli’s solid muscles were trembling and Kíli only clutched him tighter, breathing heavily through his nose in indescribable relief.

“Mahal, Fíli, I thought…” Kíli couldn’t let him go, and he couldn’t stop the tears from gathering at the sight of golden hair beneath his chin, mesmerized by the feeling of his brother in his arms. When he was more sure of himself, when he was certain Fíli wouldn’t simply disappear, Kíli pulled back to arm’s length, hands still grabbing his brother’s shoulders hard.

Fíli looked _terrible_.

“You’re a mess, Khâzash,” the younger dwarf murmured, eyes searching as he took in the volume of Fíli’s distress and his visible injuries. Shivering fiercely, the dwarf was nearly white in color; lips and the skin around them purpling, discolored from the freezing elements. Kíli noted the stark contrast of this compared to the scarlet, weeping wound at his hairline. It matted his hair there, staining it into small, red cords. With trembling fingers he brought his hand up to the gash and had almost touched it when his brother pulled back with a wince.

Kíli cursed at the sight of the damaged skin and the obvious state of his kin; after all, Fíli had yet to speak, and so, seeking his brother’s soft voice, seeking familiarity and reassurance for himself, he pleaded, “How badly are you injured? What _happened_ , Fíli?”

Cloudy blue eyes drifted upwards and Kíli felt his breath catch in his throat at the confused pinch of his brow.

“Kee…?”

Fíli’s voice was scratchy, soft, and just this side of puzzled that Kíli immediately turned to Oin, alarm clear on his face.

“Oin! Something’s not right!”

The healer had already started charging forward the moment he saw the gash on his prince’s forehead, concerned at the size and the fact it was still bleeding when it could very well have occurred hours before.

“Let me through lad,” he ordered the young dwarf, nudging him to the side where he crouched and took Fíli’s face in his withered hands, tilting it from side to side as he tried to figure out the extent of the injuries.

He hummed quietly to himself in thought, and when he'd taken enough time to examine the damage, he said, “This needs tending. It will need to be stitched, but I don't have the supplies with me. Fíli, are you injured elsewhere?”

If he was to be honest, Fíli may have replied differently. The hours-long fight to stay afloat - _alive -_ in the accursed lake had completely drained him of his strength. In fact, he hardly had the energy to stay awake at that moment, let alone talk. Muscles clenched and spasmed as they shivered in a natural instinct to regain warmth. He was cold; so cold, he didn't think he could ever be warm enough again. Fíli didn't remember hitting his head, but he certainly felt the aftereffects of a blow sustained too hard; his vision swam and lurched with each movement, enough so that it was a constant effort to keep from retching, especially as Oin prodded and tilted his head as he pleased. At many points during his swim, he’d also inhaled mouthfuls of the lake water and his chest was already aching; but as it was, he didn't have time for the healer’s coddling. If they were to reach Erebor and find their kin, they had to leave _now_. Despite his injuries and his overpowering exhaustion, Fíli was of the line of Durin, heir to the throne of Erebor, and it was in his duty to put the others first.

And so in this stubbornness, he simply replied, “N-No.”

“He is freezing and still soaked,” Bard interrupted as he joined the small gathering. Tilda was still curled in his arms, her small head tucked beneath his chin as she watched on with doe-eyes. “He will need a change of clothes, if possible. I'm unsure of how long he was in the waters before we found him nearly unconscious on one of the walkways.”

“There's n-no time,” Fíli protested, and despite his chattering teeth and breathlessness his tone left little room for argument. Azure eyes were rimmed by black smudges, a sick combination of fatigue and filthy smoke, and yet he still gazed up at them all in persistence. “Help me up, Kíli; if we m-make for the mountain now, we can arrive by afternoon.”

“You'll do yourself more harm if you don’t allow yourself to be fixed up, lad,” Bofur protested.

“I'll be fine. There are m-much more important things to worry about, l-like what's happened to our c-c-company. Wh-who knows if they-y were injured by Sm-maug. Show me the way to our b-boat.”

Kíli, Bofur and Oin looked at one another, brows furrowed and lips bitten against arguments that were quickly rising. But despite knowing Fíli was in no shape to go anywhere, despite _seeing_ that he was in no way ready to move from his spot until he had been treated, the two older dwarves wouldn’t argue, _couldn’t_ argue against their prince.

Kíli on the other hand, could.

“Fee,” he said softly, crouching down and holding his brother’s trembling fingers within his own. “You are in no shape to be going anywhere, trust me. You look awful, you can’t even stop trembling -”

“I’ll be f-fine Kíli,” the blond growled, pulling his hands away from his brother’s and secretly mourning the loss of their warmth. “Now h-help me up or move so I c-can get up my-myself.”

No one had paid particular attention to Bain, who after a quick word from his father had slipped away, only to return as Kíli and Bofur helped the injured blond to his feet. Bain moved forward, noting with a frown the wince that crossed Fíli’s face as he stood upright, nor did he fail to notice the way he favoured his side, the slight lean of his body as though he were attempting to shield his ribs. The fact that the blond had managed to stand at all had been an impressive feat, for he and his father had been certain they’d come across another body when they spotted him strewn across the dock with skin as pale as snow.

“Here,” he offered holding out the dry clothes he’d fetched from one of the nearby piles. “I think these should fit you. Da’s right, you need to change, get warm or you will make yourself worse.”

Fíli looked like he was about to argue, but the stern look on all his companions faces, both dwarf and human, had him nodding his head meekly. “I’ll change when we get to the boat, f-for privacy,” he added when Sigrid opened her mouth to argue.

With brief farewells the two groups separated, Bard and his family setting off to see what the  commotion was further away and Oin, Bofur and Kíli who had Fíli supported between them made for the lake. Finding a boat intact was easy, and while Oin and Bofur searched around for some paddles Kíli helped his brother strip off his clothing and tried to dry him off with the blanket they’d found on one of the seats.

It was as Kíli was rubbing the blanket over Fíli’s arms vigorously that the flash of flame red hair caught his attention and he looked up with wide eyes, a smile crossing his face when Tauriel spotted him and came towards them.

“Bofur,” he called over his shoulder. “Can you come here and finish helping Fíli change?”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he left his brother’s side, unaware of the dull blue gaze that watched him walk towards the elf.

 

* * *

 

Fíli fought against a budding hollowness at the sight of his brother, going to greet the elf he’d become so enamoured with during their time in the cells of Mirkwood.

Many years ago, whilst he and Kíli stargazed and admired the sight of a fire-moon, he’d been struck so suddenly by a feeling of yearning for his own brother; heart cracked open, weeping, his entire being called for its other half, his One. But Kíli, his young, sweet, _innocent_ Kíli, had no notion of his desires, and that seemed to strike him all the deeper as he pined for an unrequited love.

Stuck between heartache and an unconditional devotion that threatened to overflow and taint all in its path, Fíli had chosen to tell his brother stories of the stars and the moons instead. Even with his heartache, just being by Kíli’s side alone had made it one of the most perfect nights of his life.

It was not this way for Kíli, it seemed. Not once did his brother mention him to the elf. Kíli had made no indication that he’d been traveling with someone of importance, and it was clear he kept his name out of their conversations altogether, as though he didn’t exist.

Deep within him, Fíli had hoped that when they escaped Mirkwood, that would be the last they saw of the elf captain. It was his every intention to speak with Kíli, to confess every ounce of love he felt for him and everything that he’d so cowardly held back all those years ago. 

But it seemed it wasn’t to be.

First she’d arrived at the gate near the river, albeit saving Kíli, then at Bard’s house when the Orcs attacked, where she’d saved Kíli _again_ , then she joined them on the boat as they escaped the dragon fire, and now here she was once more, a fond look on both her face and in her eyes as she watched the dwarf approach.

“Come now, laddie,” Bofur said, drawing his attention away from his brother. “Let’s get you out of the rest of these wet clothes. We don’t want you to catch cold on top of everything else.”

With a last glance behind him Fíli nodded, wondering just how long it would take for Kíli’s affections for the elf to grow into something more than just a friendship, and then how long it would be before he was forgotten.

 

* * *

 

“Tauriel!”

“Kíli,” the elf responded with a smile. “I am glad to see you. You found your brother, I see.”

The dwarf nodded, a look of relief playing on his lips. “He’s alive. Battered and bruised and injured in places but he’s alive.”

“Indeed he is,” Tauriel agreed, though for a brief, unnoticeable second, her green eyes grew stony at the look of warmth on Kíli’s face as he spoke of his brother. “Now tell me, how are _you_?”

 

* * *

 

Back in the boat, Oin was sighing in exasperation at his prince’s sudden petulance; every so often, he’d glance back at the shoreline - at what, the healer wasn’t sure. The reason did not matter to him, though; all that mattered now was his duty to mend what he could of Fíli’s wounds, despite how hard the blond was making it to complete his task.

“Sit still, Fíli,” he growled when the blond turned his head out of his grasp for the third time. He’d managed to gather a spare piece of clean cloth, and was trying to wipe the weeping wound but Fíli seemed to be determined to make the simple task as difficult as possible. The wound itself was deep; clearly something sharp had sliced through layers of skin and muscle, nearly down to the bone. As a healer, it bothered him to know he didn’t have the necessary needle and thread to close it. And as such, there was little more he could do except keep it clean and covered until he had the resources to do more.

Fíli sighed deeply and seemed to cave in on himself, finally facing Oin in full, his back to the shore.

“Sometimes I believe you to be more stubborn than your uncle,” Oin grumbled, though his eyes twinkled fondly. He’d always had a soft spot for his two princes, and no matter how hard they made his life sometimes he could never stay upset with them.

Fíli managed a small smile, despite the painful prodding at his head and the greater pain in his chest at the knowledge of the conversation taking place behind his back. “I-is that so?”

“Aye.”

“I found another blanket,” Bofur said as he boarded the boat. After he’d helped to dress Fíli in dry clothes and a pair of new boots, he’d gone searching for more layers. The young dwarf’s shivering had grown worse to the point it looked painful, and they were worried about the lingering chill, which, with the lack of heat from the sun would only get worse. It was enough that Oin had demanded he find something more to get their prince covered; if he wasn’t warmed up soon his chances of catching an illness would steadily worsen with each passing hour. It was with luck that Bofur found an abandoned wool bedcloth, and he hurried back towards his friend with it. Sympathetically, he placed it around Fíli’s shoulders.

The blond looked to almost wilt under its weight. He sighed and drew it tightly around him.

“There,” Oin said, happy to see him have a chance at regaining some warmth. “Now, give me your hand.” The healer pulled his hand from beneath the blanket, and guided it up to his brow. “Keep this cloth there to staunch the bleeding. It will slow eventually but I may still have to stitch it.”

There was a hitched breath at the contact, followed by an eruption of wet coughs, and Fíli doubled over.

"Easy, lad,” Bofur murmured in concern. He looked on, sharing a worried look with Oin. He’d seen the prince take many blows over the years, both by fist and by sword, and he’d never seen him look this hurt. “Oin?”

The healer’s lips tightened into a scowl, and he anxiously looked back to the shoreline. They needed to get moving if they were to treat the blond properly, but Kíli’s insistence to talk to the elf was slowing their departure. He was about to call out when Fíli shook his head.

“I’m fine, r-really,” he told them hoarsely. A sharp inhale later, and he was coughing again, this time taking nearly twice as long to recover. Finally, he looked up at them, eyes watery from the strain of it all. “I just need a minute to wa-warm up.”

Oin nodded in agreement. “That you do. Stay under that blanket and get some rest. You have a few hours until we reach the mountain, and once we’re there, I’m hoping I can find some lavender oil,” he said. “It will help with the pain.”

Fíli had hardly any breath left to argue and so he offered a weak smile instead, settling against the wooden hull. His eyes slowly drooped until they nearly closed, and he was left alone, lost in his thoughts, the sounds of the panicked townspeople and waves breaking against the shore were still not enough to drown out the murmurings of his brother and the elf a few yards away.

 

* * *

 

“Kíli! Come on!”

The brunet glanced over his shoulder and waved a hand to show Bofur he’d heard him. “What will you do now?” he asked Tauriel. He wanted her to come with them; excitement was still bubbling inside him at the prospect of going _home_ , and in his guileless joy, he wanted to show it all to her - the beautiful depths of the mountain, the gems and the jewels and the _gold_... but he worried. Thorin could barely stand hearing the word ‘elf’ spoken in his presence so it was likely he wouldn’t react well to having one wandering the halls of Erebor so soon after reclaiming it.

“The people of Laketown will need assistance,” Tauriel replied, eyes scanning the faces of the refugees who passed by. “They have wounded, and if I can help them, I must try.”

Kíli nodded, feeling a little disappointed. From what little he knew of the captain her sense of duty to what was right was important to her; if it wasn’t, she certainly wouldn’t have stayed to heal him nor help Bard’s children escape.

“Tauriel.”

A new voice spoke up from behind the redhead and she stiffened, swallowing thickly before she replied.

“Legolas, you returned.”

“I would not leave you to try and heal these people on your own.”

“Kíli!”

Kíli turned and glared at Bofur, pausing when he saw the old miner hovering over his brother who was slumped against the side of the boat.

“They are your people,” Tauriel reminded him gently, raising her hand to run her fingers over his cheek in a soft caress. “You must go.”

With a glance over her shoulder to see Legolas staring at him with narrowed eyes he nodded and walked away, only to pause, sticking his hand into his pocket and going back towards her. He took her hand in his calloused one, transferring the smooth stone to her and wrapping her soft fingers around it.

She didn’t need to look at it to know what she had been given.

“I can’t take this,” Tauriel breathed, green eyes wide in shock.

“Keep it,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently once before letting go. “As a promise.”

 

* * *

 

Fíli watched through half lidded eyes as Kíli climbed into the boat and he couldn’t help but curl into himself slightly as his brother made his way over. He’d watched the entire exchange between Kíli and the elf; the side of the boat he’d chosen had given him the perfect vantage point to watch them without being obvious. His heart ached at the clear sign of affection they held for one another, even though Kíli’s back had been to him, he’d been able to read his brother like an open book since before the younger dwarf could walk.

“Oh Fee.”

Fíli looked up, musings broken by Kíli’s whispered exclamation and found himself looking into his brothers shocked brown eyes. It seemed his body’s slowly deteriorating state was more obvious than he’d thought.

“‘m fine Kíli,” he mumbled, drawing the thin blanket further around his shoulders. “Just need to rest.”

Kíli nodded and grabbed a paddle, standing directly beside his brother and despite not wanting to rely on him, Fíli found himself leaning against his leg in search of additional warmth.

“Just sleep, Fee,” Kíli whispered, running a gentle hand through the tangle of blond hair soothingly. “Save your strength.”

With a small nod Fíli gave up and wrapped a loose hand around the leg, already feeling the warmth seeping into his bones. He looked up, about to thank his brother when he found Kíli’s gaze fixed on the shore behind them, no doubt watching the elf.

Fíli had always thought their relationship was built like a diamond; tough and bright, many faces and the occasional imperfection making it flawless and beautiful. But now, seeing the way Kíli looked at her he wondered if even the toughest of gems could shatter, leaving unrecognizable and painful fragments in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Khâzash_ \- brother


	3. The Kingdom Of Carven Stone

**A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry we're a few days behind posting this (thanks ThornyHedge for the reminder! This is for you :D ) I think we've both been tied up in other stories, but it's here for you now, and on the leap year! Well, it is for all those a day behind me here in little old NZ :P**

**We're _realllllyyy_ looking forward to hearing what you think about this chapter, as this has the scene that inspired it all many moons ago. The link to the original GIF is [here](http://filikilithorinforever.tumblr.com/post/120849682080/lilarosa712-squeepii-lilarosa712) if anyone needs reminding!**

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**Enjoy!!**

 

* * *

 

The group’s journey to the mountain was filled with growing anticipation, and as the morning slipped by with each stroke of their paddles it almost came as a shock when their boat finally slid to shore. Their arrival had them near giddy with relief; the sight of their home right before their eyes was one of glory, and they collectively took in a breath from the wonder and significance of it all.

All except for Fíli, that is, who still sat heavily in a cloud of pain against his brother’s left leg.

His face had gained back some of its color from the time he'd spent huddled under the blanket, but his whole frame still trembled uncontrollably. Though the young prince felt thoroughly chilled and achy, he despised the frailty he knew the others could see. Fíli yearned to maintain control, to be vigilant for his kin, because that was his duty as Thorin’s nephew. And so he’d fought sleep the entire trip; instead slouching against his brother, still astute, eyes half-lidded while he searched the lake for a danger that never came.

“Fee.”

He blinked groggily, tilting his head up slightly at the feeling of gentle fingers in his hair. Kíli was looking down at him, concern written all over his own pale face. Knowing Kíli better than he knew himself he must’ve looked a right sight for his brother to look that worried, and he tried to give him a reassuring smile.

If the way Kíli’s frown deepened was any indication, he wasn’t very convincing.

“Don't look at me like that Kíli. ‘m okay… just tired.”

“If you don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to stay awake, then you've been knocked in the head harder than I thought,” the brunet said sternly, almost curling his body around that of his brother’s in a comforting gesture. “You should have rested, saved your strength. You’re in bad shape and you’re only making yourself worse.”

“I’ll be fine -”

“Fíli.”

“Well you’ll have to be,” Oin cut in before the brothers really started arguing. Both were ill, Kíli less so since the elf helped with his leg, but he was still looking peaky and the last thing he wanted was the pair of them holding up their return, and their recovery, due to a trivial disagreement. “We need to get inside the mountain and soon; we need clothing and supplies if I am to treat you both and stop you from falling with fever-” he didn’t mention that based on the blush to Fíli’s cheeks, he was probably already suffering one, “and getting so sick you are bedridden for days. I imagine Bard will bring his people to Dale, and Thorin is going to want all the negotiators he can get. So up with you both; Kíli, help your brother.”

The youngest nodded meekly, guilt racing through him at arguing with his clearly ailing brother. Why did he have to be so stubborn?! “Yes Oin. C’mon, Fíli.”

Kíli braced himself against the side of the boat while he used his other hand to pull Fíli to his feet. With his arms still cradled defensively around his aching chest, the older dwarf stood on unsteady legs, and then briefly, he met his brother’s gaze in an embarrassed thanks. Kíli was undoubtedly fighting back words - he was staring, measuring him, wondering, eyes pinched as he still clearly worried. To his credit, though, he made no further comments, and instead kept his eyes protectively glued to Fíli’s back.

“Thanks, Kee,” Fíli murmured as they stepped to shore.

 

* * *

 

The more Fíli walked, the more his head cleared, and he could really begin to take in the sight around him. The mountain was everything he’d imagined, everything Thorin’s stories had made it out to be. It stood magnificent and proud, rising from the ground with its scarred and barren landscape as penance for the dragons attack. With every step closer he gazed on in awe, many of the stories matching what he saw here. He wondered if his mother would cry when she set foot in a homeland that had been stolen from her at such a young age, if she’d feel at home amongst the stone and caverns. Or if she’d feel like a stranger in halls untouched by time, just like him. For although Thorin’s and Balin’s stories had made it clear this was their true home, even on the outskirts he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

The uneven landscape made walking difficult, the brothers each struggling with their own injuries which slowed their party down. Finally, hours after reaching the shore, they laid eyes on the giant stone statues that framed the mountain and Fíli sighed in relief. They were almost there.

“Wow…”

Fíli turned to see his brother staring up at the statues with wide eyes, awe clear on his face and he couldn’t help the tired grin that appeared.

“Impressed?”

“Uncle’s stories didn’t do it justice, that’s for sure.”

“Come on lads!” The pair turned to look at Bofur as he walked between them and clapped them on the shoulders. “Time’s awasting and I for one wouldn’t mind a warm meal and a warm spot to sleep tonight. Plus, I can’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces when they realize we’ve survived.”

With a nod they started forwards again, Fíli focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. They were close but he was determined not to think about it because if he did, he knew the exhaustion he was holding at bay would wash over him. Better to pretend he had days to go rather than hours.

His ability to distract himself seemed to work. In no time at all the uneven ground gave way to smooth stone and he looked up tiredly, his ability to be amazed by the towering doorway before him marred by the exhaustion that was beginning to creep in.

Until he saw the gaping hole where the gates once stood.

With a glance shared between him and Kíli he sprinted towards the ruins, pushing aside the fatigue in the face of concern. Not once had he stopped to think the others could have perished in Smaug’s wrath; not once had he even considered that he could very well have been made the new uncrowned King the moment Smaug had been woken. He’d been so focused on fleeing Laketown and the following swim he’d forgotten he might never see Thorin again.

Looking at the devastation Smaug had caused when he left the mountain, boulders strewn across the plains as though an explosion had occurred, reminded him of what Thorin had told him many years ago about how the front of the mountain had caved in on itself when Smaug entered, the wyrm’s tail and claws tearing down everything in it’s path. But seeing it now, seeing the gaping hole, sent terror racketing down his spine with every step closer.

The thundering of boots that slapped the stone beneath told him his companions were close behind him, and puffing and panting the group made their way to what remained of the entrance.

Slowing down they moved forwards hesitantly, each step taken carefully on the debris littered floor.

“Hello!” Bofur called, his cry echoing in the vast hall. “Bombur?! Bifur?! Anybody?!”

The claw marks and broken pillars did nothing to ease Fíli’s worry in any way. Walking further inside he nearly slipped when his foot came in contact with a surface far more smoother than any stone.

“What in Mahal’s name…”

There, below his feet and stretching as far as the eye could see, was gold. But it wasn’t just any gold. It was an entire floor of it, smooth and solid, glinting in the sunlight that crept through the opening for the first time in decades.

“What happened here?!” he breathed, looking up to see Kíli, Bofur and Oin looking back at him equally shocked.

“We need to find Thorin,” Kíli murmured, looking around with furrowed brows. This floor certainly hadn’t been in the stories of old, but to see it here with no reason begged the question as to how it occurred.

Both boys jumped when a hand was placed on their shoulders, and they turned to see Bofur staring past them with a worried look on his face.

“Lads,” he began, hesitating for the briefest of moments before continuing on. “Have you stopped to think that we may not find - ”

But Fíli raised his hand to cut the miner off. “Don’t say it Bofur,” he pleaded. “Please. Thorin’s alive, he has to be, otherwise…”

Otherwise he’d have to rule a kingdom before he was ready, otherwise he’d have to lead their small group of four into the fray of a war he knew for certain was coming.

Otherwise he’d have to admit the man he thought of as a father was gone from his life without a proper goodbye and leaving him all alone.

“He’s alive, I’m sure of it.”

He just hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

 

* * *

 

Out of the four of them Oin was the only one to have been in Erebor before it fell; neither he nor Kíli had been born then and Bofur had been traveling on the road, and because of this, they deferred to his judgement as to where they might find their companions.

They were beginning to wonder if that had been a good idea.

“Oin? Any idea where the others might be?”

“Well if they found some lanterns they wouldn’t have a problem -”

Bofur sighed loudly in exasperation. “Not _see_ Oin, be. Be.”

“You won’t find any trees around here laddie-”

Despite their injuries and the worry they held for their kin Kíli and Fíli stood there with their knuckles stuffed in their mouths trying not to laugh. They knew the healer’s hearing was bad but without his trumpet, which had suffered an untimely end at the foot of a goblin, it was beyond impossible. Then again, Fíli mused, he hadn’t had too many problems back in Laketown, so perhaps he was selective.

“Try talking louder,” Kíli offered helpfully. Bofur glared at him, and Fíli couldn’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of what should have been a serious situation.

While Bofur raised his voice in an attempt to get an answer out of the deaf dwarf Kíli turned to look at his brother, not having had much of a chance on their walk to the mountain to see how he was doing.

“Are you feeling any better, khâzash?” he asked quietly, stepping into Fíli’s space. He placed a gentle hand on his elbow when the blond looked away. “Please don’t shut me out, I worry for you.”

With a silent sigh of fondness Fíli gave his younger brother a soft smile. “I’m fine, nadadith, I swear, just worried for Thorin’s safety. Although I would kill for a proper bed right now. Flat wood is not an ideal sleeping place.”

What was intended as a joke was met with a pained look from Kíli, and Fíli cursed silently. He knew the younger dwarf felt guilty for leaving him behind, had seen the pained looks shot at him each time stumbled on their trek to the mountain.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kee,” he assured him, returning the squeeze his brother had given him. “It was a horrible situation I won’t lie, but I would have taken a wooden floor over the water any day.”

“I should have heard you,” Kíli whispered remorsefully. “I should have heard you.”

At the sight of tears welling in the brown eyes he had long ago fallen for, Fíli pulled his brother into a hug, melting into it slightly at the strength in which Kíli held him. As though he was afraid to lose him.

“I do not, and will _never_ blame you Kee,” he told him firmly. “There was a dragon we were fleeing from after all. It’s not like when you locked me out of the house during a storm deliberately -”

“That was an accident!”

Fíli grinned into his brother’s shoulder at the whine, having successfully pulled his brother from his regret to a long standing reminder of Kíli’s clumsiness when they were children. Properly distracted he drew away to arm’s length, keeping his hands firmly on the brunet’s shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better, I forgive you Kee. Now enough of regrets, let’s go find our friends.”

 

* * *

 

They wound their way through the vast, gloomy and barely lit halls, worry settling further into their guts at the devastation Smaug had left in his wake. Aside from still trying to find their companions, Erebor was in poor shape, her former glory laid to ruin by the claws and tail of the wyrm.

It meant much rebuilding, and likely much planning if they wished to restore her correctly.

Fíli shook his head as they descended yet another staircase. Why did his ancestors think it was a good idea to build a maze of stairs winding around pillars and walkways? Aside from the fact he was certain he’d get lost if he was left to navigate alone, his chest was beginning to ache again and the thought of having to climb all those stairs again to get to the top made him groan involuntary.

“Fíli?”

He shook his head, not bothering to look back at his brother to explain his frustration. Kíli would certainly clue on quickly because at this rate the poor dwarf would have to help carry him back if they didn’t find the others soon.

Just as they began descending another set of stairs there was a soft slapping of feet against stone which quickly came closer. The group began looking around, hurrying in the hopes of finding whoever it was when -

“Wait! _Wait_!”

They stopped on a walkway, looking at one another in shock.

“It’s Bilbo! He’s alive!”

“Stop, stop, stop!”

The hobbit came bursting out of a doorway next to them, a serious look on his face as he skidded to a stop in front of them.

“You need to leave, we all need to leave.”

“Bilbo? We only just got here...” Bofur told him, his confusion mirroring those of his companions.

Bilbo shook his head. “I’ve tried talking to him but he won’t listen.”

“What do you mean, laddie?”

“Thorin. He’s been down there for days. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats, he’s not been himself… not at all.”

“What of Dwalin?” Fíli asked, sharing an alarmed look with his brother. “Balin? Where are they? Why haven’t they tried to talk sense into him?”

“They’ve tried, Fíli, trust me, but he won’t listen. Not to me, not to them. I fear he’s not himself, not at all.”

The blond closed his eyes, grief welling up at the halflings words. If what Bilbo said was true, Thorin had become the one thing he swore never to be.

Talking to him now would make little difference. If Thorin’s closest friends couldn’t reach him there was no chance his nephews would either, so for now his uncle would have to be left to his own devices. He had more pressing matters, namely ensuring his companions were all safe, and reuniting Bofur and Oin with their families.

He turned to Bilbo with pain-filled eyes. “Where are the others Bilbo? We need to plan, try and figure out how to get Thorin back.”

 

* * *

 

The sight of his dear kin running towards their small group the moment they were noticed in unadulterated elation - stunned grins cracking their faces, arms spread to embrace warm, _alive_ bodies - was a moment that the blond prince would never forget. The reunion itself was loud; thunderous cheers and pulsing energy thrummed the chamber as they all ran to clutch their brothers and friends, praising Mahal that each and every one of them had survived.

“Oh! Oh!” Dwalin was laughing, the unusual delight behind his timbre betraying his massive, imposing frame.

“Kíli! Bofur!”

“Thank Mahal!”

But the excitement Fíli felt only lasted a second. Standing at the back of their group, he’d dropped the woolen blanket from his shoulders and had thrown his arms out wide, ready to greet his friends... but his arms remained empty as he was met by no one. Before his eyes, the others grasped at each other, hugging, clapping each other’s backs, turning to find the next dwarf to celebrate their survival and life itself, and he still stood alone.

“Nori,” Fíli tried as he side stepped his brother, who nearly toppled into him during a massive embrace from Dwalin.

“Oh, Kíli!” Instead, Nori took Kíli from the warrior’s arms and held him tightly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Thank heavens you’re alright. Tell me, lad, how is your leg?”

“Bombur!” To his left, Bofur brushed passed him to embrace his younger brother, whose face was wet with tears of relief. The floppy-hatted miner almost disappeared in Bombur’s immense grip.

“Oin! Oin! My, is it good to see you!”

All around him, the others continued their celebration, and still, Fíli was left alone. He shrunk back against the far wall, blanket and the warmth it provided forgotten, and it was there he stood rooted to the stone floor in silence. Earlier, for a moment, he’d forgotten his injuries and his chill, but now the biting cold returned and he felt more numb than ever.

And for the second time in a number of hours, he’d been _forgotten_.

A small part of him knew it was to be expected. Where Kíli and Bofur and to some extent Oin, although not always voluntarily, were noisy and boisterous he was quiet, sticking to the shadows and protocol as his uncle and position as heir had taught him. He’d never thought much of it before, knowing he was never the first one others looked to but to be ignored, forgotten _completely_ … He had never been a self-centered dwarf, always putting others above himself, but how had he fallen so far out of the loop with those he called friends that his own well being was overlooked?

While Fíli was doing his best to become one with the wall, he failed to notice the remainder of reunion. If he had paid attention he would have seen Dwalin looking around for him in confusion.

“Kíli, where is your brother?”

The young dwarf released his hold on Balin to address Dwalin, who must have now just noticed the other’s absence. Kíli’s smile fell slightly, and his forehead pinched in confusion. “What? He was just here. Fíli?”

Kíli turned, eyes gazing across the room in growing concern at the sudden disappearance of his brother.

“Ah - there you are, laddie. Come on, come here!” Dwalin stepped forward at the sight of Fíli off in the far corner, arms wide, and he finally pulled him in for an embrace. The moment he enveloped the smaller dwarf he stilled, eyes widening in shock at the vast difference in temperature between them. “By my beard, you’re frozen!”

He gripped Fíli tightly by the shoulders, pushing him at arm's length to get a closer look. The younger dwarf looked terrible; his skin was pale, and his hairline was tinged red and crusted with clotted, half-dried blood. Beneath his hands, he felt the boy shivering, his skin cold to the touch. Frowning unhappily, he turned back to the group who had paused to look, as if sensing something was amiss. The warrior could feel anger budding within him. “What happened?”

Before the others could reply, Fíli managed to find his voice, and he shrugged out of Dwalin’s tight hold. Suddenly uncomfortable at the intensity of the the group’s concerned gazes, he mumbled, “Just took a dip in the lake, Dwalin, it's nothing of concern,” and then, in a purposeful attempt to remove the attention from himself, he cleared his throat and spoke with a more measured tone. “Tell me, where is Uncle? What’s going on, Dwalin?”

Dwalin’s frown deepened as if he could see right through the blond’s sloppy attempts at changing the subject, but Kíli suddenly prevented any further questioning.

“Yes,” Kíli said impatiently as he looked at the warrior and his mentor seriously. “Tell us what happened? What’s wrong with Thorin?”

What had once been explosive mirth in the room was now just tense silence. It was as if the dwarves knew whoever broke the news would be facing the wrath of the brothers themselves.

Finally, Balin stepped forward; his aged wrinkles were cut even more deep along his forehead as he looked on in woe. His voice was deep, and it cracked when he spoke at last. “He is in the Great Hall. I’m afraid… I’m afraid he’s succumbed to the Sickness.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the growing illness that plagued his body, Fíli continued forth. His own sickness had been pushed into the vestiges of his mind, anyway, because as his steps echoed quicker and quicker down the marble steps, he could only see one thing. It was as if his vision had tunneled; closer the image came, and yet it grew more blurry. His sight had misted over, clouding by something that felt suspiciously like tears. At Balin’s earlier words he’d rushed from the chamber, overcome at the thought of Thorin in such a state, because it simply couldn’t be _true, Thorin knew better, he was stronger than that, he was of sound mind, please please don’t let it be true -_

Before him, his uncle paced endlessly.

Thorin’s gait was slow, marked by a distinct need that shined bright in his eyes even at such a distance. Pacing upon the huge expanse of the treasure horde, surrounded by gold and jewels of immeasurable worth, he was still ever hungry, wholly unsatisfied, and _searching_.

The Arkenstone.

It had to be. Fíli had grown up on tales of the mountain and of the stone, and it was also Thorin who had described the sickness of his grandfather Thror, of his love of gold that had grown too fierce; how he’d become altered in his greed, drowned by an obsession and a sickness that claimed both mind and soul.

“Uncle..?” the sound came out in a hoarse whisper. His own horror at the sight before him evident in both his voice and stunned expression.

Thorin’s pacing paused.

Though Fíli’s question was just barely uttered, it clearly broke through his obsessive trance, and after a moment, his uncle’s head slowly lifted. The gaze that met his was unrecognizable.

His eyes were cold.

His face was stony.

“Kíli... Fíli,” he acknowledged them.

Immediately, Fíli’s frown deepened. Thorin’s voice rasped; it was low, hardly carrying through the chamber, and it sounded as though it no longer belonged to him. The timbre was twisted, cold, soulless... It was if he was the wyrm itself.

Fíli shook his head. It was impossible, even gold sick Thorin would never allow himself to copy the voice of the foul beast.

Right?

“Come down here,” Thorin continued, face blank but eyes blazing as he spoke to them. “Let me see you.”

The brothers briefly glanced at one another and then made their way down the closest staircase, stumbling over the gold as coins and jewels shifted beneath their feet, until they found themselves standing in front of their uncle.

Now within arm's reach, the sight of Thorin up close had his heart fluttering. Deep blue eyes stared at him, but all depth had disappeared. Instead, where fire and love had once burned brightly, his gaze was now as frozen as the Long Lake. If this was the dragon sickness, then it already had Thorin well within its grasp.

“Uncle…” he tried hesitantly, flinching when the eyes hardened on him. “Is everything alright?”

“What happened in Laketown?” the older dwarf growled in response.

Unaware of his uncle’s cutting look at his brother, Kíli launched into an excited account of what had occurred, not sensing the growing anger until it was much too late.

“...and then, Bard appeared at the top of the tower, firing arrow after arrow at the dragon until Bain arrived with the black arrow. I’m not sure how they managed to take him down but you should have seen it, uncle, they -”

A sharp _crack_ echoed in the chamber. It stopped Kíli mid-word, his mouth falling open at the sight of Thorin backhanding Fíli across the face, sending the blond staggering with a hand holding his cheek in shock.

“You disappoint me,” the older dwarf spat, looking at him in disgust as he tried to right himself. “Time and again you continue to disappoint myself and your kin. What was it this time, Fíli? Were you too weak to do it yourself, or perhaps too cowardly? Whatever it may be, you’ve managed to spoil the name of Durin once more. As heir you were expected to get that glory for yourself. Instead you let that - that _man_ take down the wyrm! What use does Erebor have for a king with no title?”

“Uncle?” Kíli gasped indignantly. “What are you doing?! You can’t just -” Thorin’s furious gaze was turned on him and Kíli stopped short, swallowing heavily at the look.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Fíli said from between gritted teeth. “I apologise for letting you and our kin down again, but the safety of Kíli, Bofur, Oin and Bard’s children was my priority. I would have faced Smaug if I could.”

Thorin sneered at his heir, the cruel look twisting the once loving face. “I always knew you were too soft. Erebor has no need for one so weak as _you_.”

He turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving four stunned dwarves in his wake, the younger two unaware of Dwalin and Balin’s presence on the balcony above them.

Blinking rapidly as he tried to process his uncle’s words, Fíli turned and walked off in a daze, struggling to breathe as his chest constricted painfully with each breath.

“Fíli! Fíli, wait, he didn’t mean it!”

The blond ignored his brother, didn’t react at all to show he’d heard him, too busy trying to focus through the pounding in his ears and the agony in both his body and heart.

He made his way to a staircase and left the treasury for somewhere much quieter.


	4. In The Heart Of The Mountain

**A/N: FKT4Ever: Hello everyone! Sorry for the lateness for this chapter, Lila and I had a bit going on over the last month so getting to write and read what the other had written took a bit longer than anticipated, but hopefully this little angsty beauty makes up for it :D All I can say is poor Fili, and we’re nowhere near the hurt we have planned for him! ;)**

**XLR: Yes- apologies to the wait! I'm in the midst of a new position at work AND buying a house. My brain feels like mush half the time, so I have to thank you guys for sticking around, and for FKT4Ever for being a patient angel! ;) Like she said, we've got a whole lot of whump and angst planned, we really haven't even started yet...**

**Enjoy!**

**Special shout out to:[turtlelover101](http://archiveofourown.org/users/turtlelover101), [DerekAndCasAreStubbleBuddies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DerekAndCasAreStubbleBuddies), [Paintedsmile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintedsmile), [Chelidona (Hobbity)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity), [dab](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dab), [Animerockchic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Animerockchic), [Elinoic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Elinoic), [HekateSilva](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HekateSilva), [eldhraun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eldhraun), [ktime](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ktime), [JustKa12808](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JustKa12808), [swordofmybone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/swordofmybone), [xNamikaze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xNamikaze), [BlackberrySage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackberrySage), [fkuz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fkuz), [Carcy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Carcy), [childermass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/childermass), [AxoDovahKulaan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AxoDovahKulaan), [bindsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bindsy), [nasri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nasri), [karebear119](http://archiveofourown.org/users/karebear119), [maja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maja), [Lazzy21](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazzy21), [waterlilyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlilyblue), [ThornyHedge](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge), [islandkate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate), [hdburke](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hdburke), [bammes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bammes), [Quco](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quco), [Daisyjayne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyjayne), [AndersB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AndersB), [Tazer_Kaner_Manchild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazer_Kaner_Manchild), [Ashfriend](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashfriend), [ladylin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylin), [Tisserande](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisserande), [kat_114](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_114), [Mee (4Mee)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/4Mee), [deanohell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deanohell), [DreamingMymmeli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMymmeli), [SarcasticSmiler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler), [bethcat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bethcat), [Silva_13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Silva_13), [FiliKiliRp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FiliKiliRp), [pandorasxbox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorasxbox), [mjeanuniverse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mjeanuniverse), [padfootyoudog](http://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootyoudog), [Blueskydancers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueskydancers), [Januarytale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarytale), [SerenJ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenJ), and [eyesonly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesonly) as well as the 29 guests who've commented and kudosed, you guys are awesome!**

 

* * *

  

Fíli didn’t know where he was going.

His eyes were wet, and all he knew was that he needed to be as far away from his uncle and brother as he could possibly get. The sting of humiliation cut him deeply, all the way to his very core, and he struggled to keep his tears from overflowing. Though he knew Thorin was not himself, his words were piercing; they were a reflection of his own self-doubt, the insecurity he’d battled with for years under his uncle’s guidance to become future king.

Who was he kidding, anyway? Thorin’s words, though stinging, were true: he was soft, he lacked skill, he was a disappointment to his own name and kin. Fíli had been born mistakenly into the Durin line, he was sure of it.

Without much thought of where he was going, numb feet brought him up countless stone steps, and he suddenly found himself atop one of the battlements. It was a perfect spot to be alone, the ledge somehow having escaped the wrath of the dragon all those years ago and this one gave him a view of the ruined city that was Dale.

Struggling for breath, Fíli stumbled forward until he reached a parapet, and with trembling hands he gripped the cold wall until his knuckles turned white. His gaze found the mountains in the distance, captured by snow that glistened in the sunlight, and he found himself helpless, eyes lost a thousand yards beyond.

“Please,” he whispered, though to no one in particular. The tiny utterance caught in his throat, and suddenly his chest constricted, spasming against the frigid air and from its earlier abuse from the lake-water. Fíli coughed hard, body folding in on itself as he wheezed; his insides felt swollen, airway thick and phlegmy, and his chest felt two sizes too small. Tugging against the collar of his tunic, as if that would help, he near-collapsed against the outer wall, body suddenly spent from a coughing fit that caught him so off guard with its power. The tips of his fingers dug into the stone in an effort to keep himself upright.

After a minute or so, he finally got his breathing under control, and it was with great difficulty that he managed to stand without the assistance of the wall. He wiped at his wet eyes in frustration; he knew the mere sight of himself in this state was shameful, and his uncle’s words only confirmed what he knew to be true.

Weak.

Weak.

_Weak_.

Suddenly, the sound of someone clearing his throat to his left had him turning - and to his disbelief, he came face to face with the hobbit.

He gaped. “Bilbo?”

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked hesitantly.

There was no way he was going to unload his issues onto the halfing, no one deserved that burden but himself. “Y-yes,” he said instead before pausing, still slightly shocked he hadn’t noticed the hobbit’s presence when he first arrived. “What are you doing here?”

Bilbo shuffled forward until he reached the wall, only a little distance separating them now. He gazed out across the land, quiet when he spoke, though his hands were shoved in the front of his coat, tense and holding something tightly. “The same as you, I suppose. I needed a moment alone.”

He nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. “Erebor is nothing like I thought it would be, either.”

“I-I didn’t say that-”

Fíli placed a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder with a grim smile. “You didn’t have to Bilbo, I could see it in your eyes.”

They fell silent, both lost in their own thoughts that were nothing like they would’ve imagined them to be only days ago. Where excitement and jubilation should have been filling the air, instead they were solemn and wary, well aware one wrong move could set in motion events they could very well never recover from.

Sighing softly Fíli was about to excuse himself from his companion's side, lest Bilbo get too irritated with his presence, when he realised whatever Bilbo had been holding when they began speaking had yet to escape his tight grip.

“What’s that?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The hobbit looked at him with a frown. “What’s what?”

“In your pocket. You haven’t let go of it since you came up here.”

Bilbo looked at him startled, and Fíli began backtracking, wondering if he’d offended his friend with his question. “I-I’m sorry Bilbo, I shouldn’t have ask-”

“No need to apologise, lad,” the hobbit said with a chuckle as he placed a hand on his arm, “it was just a question.”

“But I shouldn’t have been so nosy-”

“You weren’t,” Bilbo assured him with a laugh, “no more than I would have been, anyway.” He drew his hand from his pocket and uncurled his fingers to reveal the last thing Fíli had expected to see.

“Bilbo,” he asked hesitantly, “why are you carrying an acorn?”

“Well,” the hobbit said thoughtfully as he looked at it, “I found it in Beorn’s garden. I thought I might plant it in my garden when I get home, as a reminder that despite everything that happened, and is still to come, that I’m lucky to have made it home.”

Fíli smiled wistfully at his friend, heart aching at the thought that he couldn't return home to do the same thing. Erebor was his home now, although it felt more like a prison than a homeland. “That’s a nice idea,” he said kindly, “and I swear on my life you will be able to return there to plant it, Bilbo.”

“I’d prefer not to swear it on your life, if it’s all the same to you, my friend,” Bilbo told him with a chuckle, “I quite like you alive where I can keep an eye on you. You and your brother get into more trouble than anyone else I’ve met.”

He blushed in embarrassment, but with a budding fever colouring his cheeks it was hard to tell. “Yes, well,” he said, not sure whether to take it as a jest or another sign of how useless he was, “I shall leave you to your thoughts, Master Baggins. Excuse me.”

With a last small smile, he made his way back down the stairs and continued further into the mountain.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t been walking very long, a few minutes at the most, when he found himself pausing in the middle of the hallway, two steps past a room that had sunlight streaming through the roof.

Curious, he turned back and entered the room, barely registering his mouth falling slack as he stared in awe. The room itself was massive, akin to half of the treasury room; instinctively, he knew the room must have been of importance - with its smooth marble flooring, and partially glassed ceiling. His cautious steps echoed the further in he walked, soaking in the heavy oak tables and chairs and eloquent decorations. Then, at last, his sight found perhaps the greatest feature; blanketing from roof to floor were great tapestries - royal blue, emerald green, and fire red, their colors and thick ropes of silver thread untouched by time. He walked to the nearest one for a closer look and found a family tree of one of the dwarf lords that had resided in Erebor before it’s fall, names and dates going back to the time when Durin himself had ruled.

He looked at each tapestry, stunned. Most of the family trees had been taught to him growing up, but they had all been recited to him from Balin’s memory or diagrams roughly drawn onto parchment; this was the first time he had seen the trees in all their glory.

Fíli made his way slowly around the room, drinking in his heritage like a man dying of thirst. He felt desperate, tracing each name along the fine silk with the very tips of his fingers, careful not to dirty them, but desperate enough to _touch_. He knew not how long it took for him to reach the last one, but when he got close enough...

“Is this…?”

The rest of the question slipped away as he nearly stumbled mid-step. The last tapestry was different than the others in the room; where their names were woven in silver thread, this had gold, and not only did it have names and dates, but a skilled seamstress had managed to capture the faces of those long since past.

It was his own family tree.

He was awestruck, fingers hovering above the names of Thror and Thrain and lightly tracing those of Thorin, Frerin and his mother. The excitement of the discovery was tinged with melancholy, because of Smaug, the tapestry remained blissfully unaware of Thror, Thrain and Frerin’s deaths, his father’s marriage to his mother, or he and Kíli whose names should have been recorded the moment of their birth.

Perhaps it was a good thing he was not on there, he thought, as he traced the spot where his name should have been marked, for he had shamed his line too often to be considered worthy of remembrance.

“It’s not true,” he scolded himself, letting his hand fall to his side, “Amad would box my ears if she heard me talking like that.”

Content with his discovery, he was stepping back from the tapestry when he jarred the side of a table with his hip. Unaware he’d just disturbed years of settled grime and dust, Fíli had only just turned to ensure nothing had been broken when he inhaled part of a churning black cloud.

And suddenly, it felt like he was drowning. Drowning without being near a drop of water, but inexplicably, he felt _submerged_ , like he was back in that damned Long Lake again, struggling to find the surface.

Unable to breathe, Fíli dropped to the ground, knees cracking against the marble floor, but he felt nothing other than a fiery burn in his chest as his lungs seized.

_No_ , he thought wildly, _no, no, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe_.

The cloud of dust was settling now, enveloping him as the dirt and spores slowly floated to the floor, coating him in a fine layer. He whimpered soundlessly and crawled on hands and knees, swaying like a drunkard and barely able to keep straight with his swirling vision. At last away from it, he collapsed, right at the foot of his family’s tapestry.

This was bad, he could tell this was very bad, because by now his lungs should’ve been working, but instead they continued their useless twitches inside his chest. His belly and ribs heaved outwards, yet like a breached fish, all he could do was breathlessly gape.

This was it. This was his fate. The Prince of Erebor had been reduced to a floundering mess, felled not by sword, but by _dust_ , and he was going to die here, alone -

A brief surge of panic, where his bluing lips parted to form, _Kee_...

Lips tingled. Ears buzzed. His body gave one last helpless, feeble jerk, then -

Awareness slipped.

He was…

He just _was_. Disconnected. Drifting for seconds, minutes, he couldn’t tell. Time was indistinct, and he floated.. Until…

His head thumped like a troll’s drum in time with his heartbeat. And in between each painful pulse, he heard himself gasping for breath. _For breath_.

He could _breathe_!

Instinctual panic took over; uncooperative muscles clenched, his legs and arms were as heavy as the earth itself, and he lurched to his side in an ungainly flop. Fíli’s world swam, tilting around him - the rich colors of the tapestries bled together - he moaned, dizzy.

Deep, barking coughs echoed around him, and all the while, Fíli allowed himself to just lay there, boneless, but _breathing_.

In… He inhaled noisily, sweet air grating against his vocal chords. Then, releasing it from his burning lungs, he repeated, drawing in another breath. And another. Another.

After long moments, he finally stirred. Clumped lashes fluttered against sweaty cheeks. Suddenly more alert, he glanced around the empty chamber, eyes dull with shock.

“ _Kee…_ ” the word left him on an breathy exhale. Though his brother was nowhere near, the call was compulsive, driven by years of trust and attachment, because he’d be damned if Kíli couldn’t fix anything just by his presence alone.

“Mahal,” he croaked. His hand fell limply to his chest, where his breaths were just beginning ease.

It was still many long minutes before Fíli felt he could move; it was likely his brother was looking for him, and he was determined not to be found in such a state. Slowly, he levered his feet under him until his knees locked, using the stone wall as a brace until the room stopped spinning. When he felt stable enough, he looked towards the door. The beams of sunlight caught how much dust still remained in the air; the thought of another coughing fit was terrifying, and so he drew his arm up to cover his mouth and moved forward. Fíli stuck to the outer edges of the room until he reached the hallway -

Where his uncle’s voice echoed deeply through the empty halls.

_“ENOUGH SLACKING! ALL OF YOU! GET TO THE TREASURY AND GET TO WORK, THE ARKENSTONE MUST BE FOUND!”_

It seemed his discovery of the tapestry room would have to wait for Kíli to see. He sighed and slowly moved back the way he came, feet dragging and head and heart heavy at the mere thought of having to come face to face with his companions after what had happened, face to face with _Thorin_ when he knew he had become little more than a soldier in his eyes.

As he reached the ramparts he could hear the shuffling of feet on the stone above him, indicating that Bilbo was still there. It was unlikely the halfling hadn’t heard Thorin so it seemed he was deliberately ignoring the mad king’s summons. He debated whether he should call him a second time or not, but he eventually decided that the Hobbit had done enough, and the last thing he deserved to do was scour through the treasure for a stone that meant nothing to him. But just as he went to walk away the hobbit grumbled something that made his blood run cold, betrayal and bewilderment suddenly pooling in his chest.

_“I need to give it to him, but Balin said it would make it worse... What have I done? Oh what’s a Baggins to do?!”_

Unable to believe his ears, Fíli blankly stared at the wall as he processed Bilbo’s words. He had the Arkenstone. While the others toiled through the vast amount of gold, Bilbo stood by with the stone hidden in his pocket. Without thinking, he stormed up the stairs, startling the hobbit who whirled to face him in shock.

“Fíli-”

“When did you find it?!”

Bilbo took an instinctive step back at the furious look on his face. He felt a pang of guilt, and so, taking as deep a breath as his injured lungs would allow, he collected himself and repeated the question.

“Bilbo, when did you find it?”

“Fíli, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“The fact that you look guilty, Bilbo, tells me otherwise,” a pause then, “I know you have the stone, Bilbo, I heard you talking to yourself.”

“I-it was purely hypothetical-”

Despite his denials, Fíli could tell that his heart just wasn’t in it. With a soft sigh he stepped forwards, raising his hands placatingly when the halfling took another step back. “Don’t lie to me Bilbo,” he begged, “please, not you. When did you find it?”

Realising he’d been caught with no way out, Bilbo sat heavily on the low wall, fingers resting over the pocket that held the stone. “When I went to confront Smaug,” he told the dwarf quietly. “It was sitting there and in his rage I managed to scoop it up before it was lost again.”

He peered up at the dwarf who was watching him, and his heart softened at the sight of the young blond before him. Fíli had taken the brunt of the damage in Laketown, and it seemed that being up here on the ramparts, exposed to the elements, was in no way good for him if the slight trembling that had started was any indication. Wanting to finish their conversation lest Thorin come looking and so he could get Fíli back inside, he continued. “I wanted to give it to Thorin, believe me I did. But Fíli… he’s changed. I don’t recognise him anymore.”

“Nor do I,” Fíli agreed with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do though, Bilbo; the stone is the source of this madness, of that I have no doubt, but unless we take it out of the mountain and away from him altogether, I don’t know how else to help him.”

It was a logical idea, Bilbo agreed silently, and one that might just work if they played their cards right. Instead he said to Fíli, “leave it to me, I’ll figure something out.” And indeed he would, but for now he needed to get the young dwarf back indoors and somewhere warm. “Come, Thorin will be expecting us and the last thing we want to do is arouse suspicion considering what is in my possession.”

He placed his hands on the dwarf’s shoulders and looked up at him with what he hoped was an encouraging expression. “We will free him of this sickness, Fíli, that is my promise to you. But for now, let us go to the others. Don’t forget to act like everything’s normal.”

 

* * *

 

They parted ways at the door to the treasury; Bilbo moving off to join Balin and Dwalin whilst Fíli found himself a spot away from the others and started sifting half-heartedly through the treasure. He knew it was best to look busy; with Thorin this unstable the last thing he needed to do was draw unnecessary attention on himself and make his uncle suspicious of his efforts.

He worked slowly, not paying much attention to what was going on around him. So when he heard footsteps making their way towards him he froze, terrified his uncle had spotted him. Bracing himself, he took as deep a breath as his lungs allowed, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the thunderous roar that was likely to follow.

“Fee?”

His breath escaped him in a rush. He felt his entire body sag in relief as he turned to see his brother looking at him worriedly. “Kíli,” he greeted quietly.

The brunet took a step forwards and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked seriously, fingers coming up to stroke his cheek lightly from where Thorin’s hand had struck him.

He gave Kíli what he hoped was a convincing smile, pulling his head back slightly to remove the fingers from his face. As much as he wished they could stay there, Kíli’s heart belonged to another and it was cruel to tease himself. “I’m fine, Kee, why wouldn’t I be?”

It was clear that his attempt at reassuring him had fallen short when his brother’s frown deepened. “Why wouldn’t you-? Fíli he _hit_ you, he struck you without just cause. Thorin was _cruel_ , you didn’t deserve what he said.”

“And yet Thorin was right to do so. I’m his heir, Kíli; I should have made an effort to kill the dragon, and yet I let Bard take down that wyrm by himself. I failed him.”

Kíli gripped his brother by his shoulders and shook him lightly. “You did not fail him, Fíli! You protected us, you put the lives of Bard’s children, _my_ life, above glory and fame. There is no greater deed of bravery than that!”

Rather than arguing Fíli sighed and pulled away. “What does it matter? Thorin is convinced I’m useless and he’s not wrong. Please Kíli, just... leave me be.”

Because he turned his back he missed the look of hurt that flashed across his brother’s face, but the steely resolve in his voice was hard to miss when he spoke again.

“Fíli, you are _not_ useless! You are the most important person in my life and I won’t stand by while Thorin attacks you for something he would have done if he were in his right mind!”

Unexplainable anger swelled in his chest at the words, and Fíli whirled around to glare at his brother. “But you did stand there!” he snapped, jabbing Kíli in the chest harshly. “You stood there and did what Thorin told you to!”

There was silence as his brother's face paled and dropped at the blow. And that look was all it took for him to physically deflate in resignation. His own misery had made his words unnecessarily harsh and it wasn’t fair of him to take it out on Kíli, when all he wanted to do was help. “I’m sorry Kee,” he said quietly. “But what does it matter? Yes, Thorin was cruel, but as you said he is not in his right mind, so threatening to do something is of little help. We just need to be patient and hope he can overcome whatever this is on his own.”

“But what if he can’t?”

When Fíli looked at his brother there was a brief moment where the brave and free-spirited dwarf he had fallen in love with had disappeared, and instead there was glimpse of a scared little dwarfling in his place. Taking a step forward he placed a hand on his brother’s neck and guided him forwards so their foreheads were touching, hoping that the contact would bring the reassurance Kíli clearly needed.

“He will Kíli, he has too.”


End file.
